← The Good Sex Project
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- [00:08]
Hayden
Howdy, howdy ho, and welcome to Fantasy Fan Fellas. I'm Hayden, producer of the Fantasy Fan Girls podcast and your resident lover of all things Sanderson.
- [00:15]
Stephen
And I'm Stephen, your bookish Internet goofball.
- [00:18]
Hayden
But you can call me the Smash Daddy. And we are currently deep diving Brandon Sanderson's fantasy epic Mistborn. But here's the catch. Stephen here has not read Mistborn before.
- [00:28]
Stephen
That's right.
- [00:29]
Aura Ad Voice
Hey. Hey.
- [00:29]
Hayden
So each week you'll get my unfiltered raw react to every single chapter. And along the way we'll do character deep dives, magic explainers, and Steven will even try to guess what's next. Spoiler alert. He'll be wrong.
- [00:40]
Stephen
Newsflash.
- [00:41]
Hayden
I'm never wrong. Episodes come out every Wednesday and you can find Fantasy Fan Fellas wherever you get your podcasts.
- [00:48]
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- [02:15]
Brooke Devard
Kyoto Kouto this episode contains explicit sexual content and language, discussion of sexuality and desire in frank terms, and references to religious trauma and purity culture. It also references anti trans legislation and political context. This podcast was made with the support
- [02:35]
Melody
of New Zealand On Air. Hi Melody here with a bonus episode of the Good Sex Project that's a little different to the others. Not too long ago at our launch event, we ran something we called A Letter to My Libido Salon. Five writers, including myself, sat down and wrote letters to that sometimes elusive, always powerful part of ourselves, and then we shared them with the room. The idea was borrowed with huge gratitude from the wonderful Jesse Casson, a photographer based here in Aotearoa, who came up with the letter to My Libido project. You can check it out@lettertomylabido.com if you're curious. In this episode, you're going to hear the letters that were penned for that event recorded in the studio. Now, partly we just wanted to share this beautiful writing and you'll understand why in a moment. But also, this week's other episode goes to some really heavy places around sexual trauma and abuse, and we didn't want to leave you there without something else to balance it. I hope you enjoy these very different letters from five very different voices, starting with Nadine Hura Nadine Nga Tihine Ngapui Mpakia is a poet, essayist, podcaster, zine maker and mama based in Te AWA Kairangi Wellington. Her blog, ITI Te Kupu, revolves around indigenous reclamation as creative practice. You can find it at nadineanhura. That's with an e on the end of ann.com Here is Nadine's letter to her libido.
- [04:12]
Stephen
Libido Girl, we need to talk. And look, I'm not here to judge me. Not anymore. We're too old for that. We're 47. 48. Look, doesn't matter. The point is, I've got to stop walking around the house listening to Pucking around on Full volume and calling it research. I mean, it is research. A female medic who specialises in groin strain having a relationship with three hockey players at once, not just with their blessing but their encouragement, that is a very worthy topic of study. But bookmarking scenes to replay to our mates at lunch, like the scene where Ilmarie says, now I have claimed all of your holes. It just, you know, it just doesn't go down the way you want it to. And I know you just want me to explain that a woman fulfilling her wildest desires shouldn't be relegated to comedy consent. This fucking hot shouldn't be considered dystopian. And I'm totally with you that it's a sign of the persistence of patriarchy that a woman so unashamedly liberated comes off as fantasy comedy instead of, you know, just ordinary life. Woman has voracious sexual appetite. Nothing to see here, just that our girl isn't convinced. Last time she walked into the kitchen and found me peeling potatoes while Jake administered the most dirty Delicate aftercare. She slammed the door and yelled, can you at least get some fucking headphones? But it's hard, you know, it's hard when you get to this age and you realise how long you've been wronged and how much cock. I mean, experience you've been denied. And I mean, if it's bad for me, imagine our mother's generation. Mum was scrolling Instagram the other day and landed on a reel of a man bleating on for 10 minutes about masculinity. And she goes, this is why I divorced all three of my husbands. Next time I'm coming back as a lesbian, because heteronormativity has done us that bad. And I know that this is the real reason you've made me the unofficial ambassador for smut. It's not even that I'm horny, okay, well, obviously I'm horny. I've been horny my whole fucking life. Remember Matt with the doe eyes on? Of course you do. Standing at the hotel room door with no shirt on and you were thinking, oh fuck yes, baby. And I was thinking, oh no, you couldn't do that. What about the children? What will they grow up and think? And their father? Wa wa wa. And so we didn't fuck him and I went home and I told the truth. But I wasn't even believed anyway. How fucken cruel that I paid the debt for a night of passion you never even got. What a rip off. And that's the thing about infidelity anyway. Some people would rather believe a lie than face a truth they can't handle. Which begs the question, who are we really betraying when we deny ourselves? And this is not an argument for cheating. No, it really isn't. This is an argument against the suppression of the erotic. Audre lord, writing in 1978, she argues that the erotic is an unused, unacknowledged, deeply female, deeply spiritual source of power. Erosion from the Greek Eros is the personification of love in all its manifestation. Love this powerful is capable of creation. Literally speaking, there is no stronger force in the world, and that is why it is so feared. That is why men have fought so hard to control the erotic, to suppress it, devalue it, abuse it, vilify it, misnaming it as a purely sexual force to be wielded through shame and against women for men's benefit. But to define the erotic in purely sexual terms is to diminish and trivialise its inherent power. In fact, the erotic is present wherever we create, wherever we are, in flow or sharing of Our full, abundant potentiality. It is a grave responsibility, Lorde writes, to embrace the erotic. Once you have experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling, you just can't accept anything less. That is why it is so dangerous to men, because the erotic aspires for excellence. The erotic just won't allow us to settle for the convenient, for the shoddy, for the conventional, for the moody, manipulative or controlling, and definitely not for the mediocre. Umid. Oh, that reminds me. Did I tell you that Matt's a fireman now? Of course he is. An actual fucking fireman who poses for firemen calendars with baby goats and ginormous hoses and zero back here every January. His face floats across my screen and I could flick my. I mean, kick myself. But honestly, I'm grateful to him now because the next time I was faced with the decision to enter the room or walk away, I made the right call. Which is not to say that I chose a man. It is to say that I chose us. That experience taught me something very fucking important. As women, our bodies know things our minds cannot always comprehend, let alone justify while wearing the straitjacket of patriarchy. Our bodies know, for example, when we are safe and with whom we are not safe. And it could be, as it was in my case, that the person you have been lying beside so safely all of these years is in fact the dangerous one. Dangerous to the fulfilment of your creative potential in the broadest, fullest, non sexual sense. So this is what has made me a network marketer of smut. Smut isn't just about desire and fulfilment. It's about living in a world in which women can be in our true, full, honest erotic power and not just not be considered a threat or suspect, but to be actually met there, to be in touch with the erotic. And to be clear, Era tane and IRO wahine exist within each of us is to give up being satisfied with self negation and self denial and self effacement and men who do not administer quality aftercare. If I do not fear the yes in you, how can I fear the yes in me? This is what I'm trying to tell people when I replay the scene where Rachel says, I want you and I want you and I want you as well. And the men all say, that's fine, we'll share. Dearest libido, I am sorry I feared you for so long. I'm sorry you were made to suffer because of the men I chose to lie with as well. As the ones I did not let you lie with. It feels right to me shall no longer be a phrase I question and doubt, but an assertion of the life force of creation within me to be shouted from hilltop to valley. May we all be brave enough to risk sharing erotic's electrical charge without looking away. May we reclaim this power and creative potential in language, in history and song, and dancing in kitchens while peeling potatoes on full volume in podcasts about good sex and letters read aloud and shared together.
- [12:26]
Melody
Thank you, ehoa. Gorgeous writing as always. Our next letter comes from an incredible trans male creative who for the purposes of this, has asked to be referred to simply as Sam. Sam's letter was written as the anti trans definition of woman and man. Bill was receiving submissions and was read aloud the day before nationwide protests against it.
- [12:53]
Brooke Devard
Okay, When I got this brief over a month ago, I wrote a really cool piece for it. It was about the flux and flow of libido. It was funny and sweet and rude, moving, and I was really pleased with it. It's kind of about how libido is impacted by age and by hormones and by being on testosterone or going through a breakup or new relationship energy. But you don't get to hear that because context has changed and I wanted to say something different to a room full of people who are interested in sex and loving connection, or rather than a room, the wider world of the ethereal podcast audience. So this new piece is less put together, it's more chaotic, more rageful. And I think that, you know, if you have complaints, it will become clear who you can send those to. So here we go. Dear Libido, I haven't seen you in a while. Are you ghosting me? Is it because it's harder to fuck when politicians are trying to define what our pussy means? I know your tolerance for stress isn't high and you were already under some pressure before all this definition spill past the first reading. Look, I'm sorry we started getting a period again. It was a really nice 15 years without it. I don't know why it's happening either. It's weird. I know that when I told the doctor, it's okay, it's called menstruation, so it's affirming. Things got awkward. I'm sorry about that. I thought it'd break the ice. I thought maybe it's perimenopause that's making things wonky for us, libido. But when I asked that same doctor, a fertility specialist, he told me confidently that the impacts of perimenopause are overstated. It's just a stressful age for women. A wonderful splash of misogyny to add to the cocktail of transphobia. I don't even know if what I'm experiencing is perimenopause because there's no information. I just casually have a lot of the symptoms, one of them being changes in you libido. And the medical system is just saying we wouldn't have a treatment pathway for perimenopause for you anyway. Because I'm not cis. These systems are built around CIS bodies and CIS realities. And then the CIS tell us that we've gone too far. Fucking no. No fucking. Because you're stressed out and you've scarpethed off libido. I understand your flight impulse is my flight impulse. It's not just the bill or the bleeding that's got us spooked. It's the global unrest and the genocides and the fascism and the tech bros and the kids being bombed and the floods and the storms and the AI replacing our jobs and the callous cutting away of disability supports and the constant attacks on Te tiriti And the beneficiary bashing, of course, always with the beneficiary bashing. And it's just unrelenting. So like, I get it. I hope you're having a great time wherever you are, far away from all of this. I've been thinking about you though. It'd be nice if you felt up for hanging out again. No pressure. If the overwhelm and the fear and the hopelessness drives you away. I wonder if connection and care and hope would bring you back. The hope we can feel when you're in a room full of people laughing with each other. Or four cheese Mac and cheese with your friends in front of a fire. Or extremely specific delicious gossip. Or making art with our own hands. Or cuddling up to a warm soft tummy in the middle of a winter night. Or that rudu that's decided to sleep in the tree by your window. Or picnics and bitch fests with friends, friends who pull you further into existence rather than politicians attempting to erase you. Or sunsets. Or knowing our history of fags and dykes and those staunch queens who knew community is fundamental to survival. Or how it's been 40 years since they legalized gays and that wasn't the start or the end clearly. But damn, we gotta celebrate the wins. Look, libido, I understand that. What I'm saying is that sunsets and picnics and friends should bring you back. And that very much. Sounds like sunsets and picnics and friends will make me horny again. But like, have you ever seen a really good sunset? Or gays having a picnic in tiny shorts. Libido I know it's harder to want to fuck when politicians are trying to define what our pussy means, but we've always been creative. If queerness has taught us anything, it's that there's a freedom that comes with going against the rules. We create our own realities and we define ourselves and we fuck better because of that. It wasn't a cishet who came up with fisting, was it? Libido I miss you but I'm here when you're ready and I've got so much lube. Sam.
- [17:56]
Melody
Thank you Sam. We stand with you always and with all our trans and non binary Whnau. Our next letter to my libido comes from Joseph Trinidad. Joseph is a Filipino writer based in Te Whanganu Iatara. He's the winner of the 2023 Adam Foundation Prize from the International Institute of Modern Letters and the winner of the inaugural Sarabande Prize in the essay selected by Alexander Chee. Joseph's debut essay collection, Lucky Creatures is out now. It's really great and it's published by Tehiringa Waka University Press in Aotearoa and Sarabande Books in the US over to Joseph.
- [18:42]
Hayden
Are you there, Libido. It's me, Joseph. Do you remember me? We've known each other since I was 6. We made buzz Lightyear and Stone Cold Steve Austin kiss in bed while Barbie wasn't looking. You made me see Red Power Ranger as a big gay awakening where I suddenly have the urge to put my little fingers in my pinkish holes. You treated my body how it wanted to be treated, like meat waiting for the rain of something salty, ready to be swallowed and consumed. Are you there, Libido? I haven't heard from you in a while. I've missed our long conversations, your secret commentaries. How if I let you talk long enough, I start believing in love at first sight. My thighs are waiting for you to be honest about our desires, to offer them without demand. Nothing was ever too big for your breeches. You wish for my high school teacher and for the entire Argentinian rugby team. I want that again. Why won't you answer my call, Libido? While you're away, I'm having to make do with appetite and ambition. Appetite is all eyes and hunger. You can never trust what he wants. But ambition. Ambition is a different monster. He trawls the world without A mother. He keeps inviting me to go bouldering. I have neither the patience nor the upper body strength for that. You are the only one who can make me hold something rock hard. Libido. Was your closet as comfortable as mine? You know I had to ignore you during all those years in Hawke's Bay, right? You kept giving me boners in locker rooms and sleepovers. One time you wanted to bury my face in a boy's pillow while he was in the shower. You wanted his scent to be the only thing I sense in the dark. So sorry if I kept turning down your ridiculously lonely requests. Is that the reason why you left and gave my ding a ling a slightly downturned shape? Is my dick crooked because you hung my Catholic guilt on its neck? His big brown head in permanent prayer, always asking for a hand and wishing to be happier. Libido. Remember how you made me love a guy just because he made us laugh? How we stole his glances until he found us? How his cock smelled sweet and metallic like a can of peaches? Remember me happy to choke on someone so fruity? Libido. I know all I do is work. The rich have already taken so much from us. They can take the fucking too. We are much better Marxists than this. Let me hear you again. It's me, your boy. Joseph. Please talk to me. Are you there, Joseph? It's me, Libido. Enough about you and more about me. Yes, my name is Libido. Don't wear it out. I am Latin in origin. I am much stronger in absence. My horniness is iron forge. That means I am faster than fear and louder than worry. All I do is want. My survival depends on it. I am provocative and unresolved. I don't stop to ask questions. I start with a direction. I'm Libido. I'm easy. I left because I don't want to go to work. I want to be on vacation. As we enter our 30s and witness our lives. Fort Armageddon. All I want is to bathe in the soft glow of goofiness and adventure. I am much happier where I am now. I am free to stop at the side of beauty as I please. Maybe I'll fuck someone with a goatee tonight, get my heart broken on a nudie beach in Barcelona, or feel the gentle blow of a French guy who smells like dandruff and cigarettes. I'm tired of being blueballed by the world. I need to learn how to love it again. While I'm gone, try your best to reenact her history. Appetite might not teach you how to fuck, but wanting something in your mouth is a good start. If ambition calls you answer. Let him be your boyfriend for now. Let him do donuts on your driveway. If I come back, know that I did it just for you. The world has great demons, but living in your skin has been mostly a delight. You taught me things too. How for all my hunger, I still don't know what's best for me. How the apple of my eye can slowly reveal a retinal disease, and how a crush stops being a crush when it starts to itch and bleed. I am libido and there are always men to be appreciated. I know there is a hockey player in your office. His hair has the color of rusts and sunsets. He has the forearms we like, thick and veiny like he just finished the workout. Think of me when he takes off his sweater and his shirt rolls up showing a waistline that's both tight and hard. Joseph, my little chicken. My favorite cock Flying is still flying even when you're close to the ground. And like many church boys know the second coming is better than the first. Take your time with our body. No reason to rush. No need to wait. I'll come when I come.
- [24:16]
Melody
Thank you, Joseph. If you loved that letter, seek out lucky creatures for more of his wonderful writing. Next up, Emily writes Emily.
- [24:30]
Hayden
Acast powers the world's best podcasts. Here's a show that we recommend
- [24:37]
Jessi Klein
hello,
- [24:38]
Brooke Devard
hello, it's Brooke Devard from Naked Beauty. Join me each week for unfiltered discussion about beauty trends, self care, journeys, wellness tips, and the products we absolutely love and cannot get enough of. If you are a skincare obsessive and you spend 20 plus minutes on your skincare routine, this podcast is for you. Or if you're a newbie at the beginning of your skincare journey, you'll love this podcast as well. Because we go so much deeper than beauty, I talk to incredible and inspiring people from across industries about their relationship with beauty. You'll also hear from skincare experts. We break down lots of myths in the beauty industry. If this sounds like your thing, search for naked beauty on your podcast app and listen along. I hope you'll join us.
- [25:20]
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- [26:35]
Melody
is a queer, neurodivergent volunteer, activist, author, writer and public speaker. I highly recommend subscribing to her newsletter, Emily Writes weekly, which you can find at emilywrights Co nz. Here's Emily now.
- [26:55]
Jessi Klein
Dear Libido, I know I haven't always treated you well. I had to work so hard just to let you live. You see, just days before you came into my life. I'd been sitting cross legged at Sunday school and we'd pass around a dirty toothbrush. Would you put this in your mouth? The pastor had asked. Would you want this near you after everyone had used it? I learned then that you're dangerous, immoral, awful. So you can see why it took me so long to love you, Libido. To not feel shame every time you fought to be seen. But look at us now. Apab, I guess. Kill the pastor in your head. Burn down the church. Replace it with something holy. You must understand, Libido, why it took so long. I learned to obey a man and hate a woman. Even the very first one, Eve. Until I found out it's Adam and Eve, not Adam or Eve. My gods are queer. Our communists are socialists and trans and tree huggers and lovers and activists and antifa supers, soldier dreamers and shame killers. And the three wise women bear gifts of lube, a satisfier pro and an annual subscription to cockyboys.com my great pilgrimage is towards you always, Libido. On my knees, crawling, but with my head held high. I'll keep the church music because why is worship so incredibly horny? Fill me, Daddy. Feel him inside you. Yes, Lord. Yes Lord, please. Yes, Jesus Christ. I will know you, Libido. Every part of you, every holy and sacred desire. I will be in communion with you. I'll worship you as you deserve. I will turn that house of shame and grief Into a house of queer joy I'll give myself over to absolute pleasure and this is how I will show glory unto you I promise I'll be so brave for you, Libido until all of the hurt and all of the ways they tried to beat you down Are just a reminder of how far you have come. I refuse to believe I am no longer divine. I know what I know now that my body tastes sublime that my heart is a muscle the size of my fist and that you absolutely should fear God when you see my booty. I won't apologise anymore and I won't hide I won't pray for your acceptance I won't make myself smaller to be eaten alive. I don't want your tolerance no more martyrs, There are only lovers here. I will be a devout heathen See my virtue on display Worship me, worship me while I follow the women Mother Mary and Queen Jezebel Sarah, the Mother of nations and Delilah Angels will sing when I listen to your ecstatic cries Libido, my deference and my testimony Are all I can give you and I know, I know it's enough. No masters or kings when the ritual begins There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. I am a sinner. Thank fucking God. I am a sinner.
- [30:50]
Melody
Thank you, Emily. It's time now for our final letter from me. Like all of the others, it's fairly personal, so we're just going to keep this one between us, okay? Dearest Libido, I remember so clearly the first time you let yourself be known. I wasn't even 10 watching a family movie, when suddenly there he was on the TV screen. The Goblin King, resplendent in silver eyeshadow, a glowing mullet halo and pants that got shinier and tighter with every scene. He was so powerful, dangerous. But under his protection there was nothing you couldn't do. All you had to do was let him rule you. I felt a flutter in my stomach, a pull somewhere lower. I wouldn't figure it out till much later, but in that moment a sub was born. Soon after there was Jonathan Taylor Thomas jtt, a more age appropriate fantasy object with his floppy blonde fringe and coy half smile. I was obsessed. Posters and pages from TV Guide plastered on my walls. I wanted him. Even as Simba, the cartoon lion cub. You always did have range, libido, I'll give you that. And yet, for the longest time, you only wanted boys. Liam and Lockie, Stephen and Jack. Josh, Toby, Ruben, Dave, Corrie, Nick, Kevin. You were obsessed. And so Disloyal. A second of eye contact or a single shared joke and your attention would switch from last week's boy to next. It was always so promising to begin with. The sparks. The heat rising through me, intensifying as the distance between us closed. But you never found satisfaction with any of them. They didn't know what to do with you. And I wasn't listening to you either. Libido. From the point of contact, my attention shifted to them. What they wanted from me. You were pushed to the background, but you never gave up. What was driving you? Libido. It wasn't pleasure. Evolution. The genetic push to procreate. Intuition. Knowing that somewhere in that mess of spark and deflation was the potential for something extraordinary. Or was it just foolishness, fueled by a heady dose of new and exciting hormones? Remember Guilleme, the Brazilian exchange student who ruined my chance of a passing grade in chemistry? Remember what he wrote in my textbook? Ela sopensa sexo? I looked it up later, heart racing. All she thinks about is sex. He really sees me, I thought. And libido. The places you've taken me. The train tracks by Marna McDonalds. The 18th hole of the Whitby golf course. The palaeontology sandpit at Te Papa. You've always been so curious, so driven. You didn't let insignificant barriers like a head high stone wall or possible security cameras get in the way of what you want. And I followed you blindly. Then in my 20s, I met a boy. He was funny, cute. We got along really well. But you weren't so sure this one's a friend. You said nothing more until I saw him making out with my best friend at a bar. Suddenly, bing. You were interested. I guess FOMO's a thing for you too, eh, Libido? I never felt you sing for anyone like you did for him. Never felt that pull so strongly. On the dance floor. We moved towards each other as if magnetized. These were the days of grinding socially condoned public dry humping, which we took to with enthusiasm soundtracked by Snoop Dogg's Drop It Like It's Hot. The rest of the world disappeared in a fog of want and came crashing back into focus when the barmaid, disgusted by the sight of us, lobbed a glass of water at my head. With him you found your satisfaction. Pleasure. Disinhibition. And you've never wavered, not even once, 20 years later. How is that even possible? To still want someone with the same urgency when all of that electric space between you has long closed? I've stopped trying to understand it. And then another surprise. I was eight months pregnant. Huge, puffy, sweaty and nauseous. I'd shaved my head, which exaggerated my unruly proportions, and I felt like a bowling pin ready to topple. But you, you were stronger than ever, demanding release in the most inconvenient moments, head up like a meerkat, constantly on the alert for anything warm and breathing. I felt like a teenager again, stuck in the body of a lumbering, panting old lady at New World Metro on Willer street, holding a bag of nectarines which were about to be devoured in a single setting. I looked up and saw her. A backpacker, sweaty, no makeup, clothes unwashed, but with a swagger that stopped me in my tracks. She looked at me, cool as a cucumber. And you sang out from my chest at a frequency I was sure everyone around me could hear. I couldn't breathe. What the fuck is this? I thought you like women now. Can pregnancy make you gay? A friend provided some reassurance.
- [36:53]
Stephen
Don't worry, she said.
- [36:54]
Melody
I was gay when I was pregnant too. I couldn't stand to be touched by my husband, but I'd masturbate to lesbian porn on the kitchen floor for hours. As soon as I gave birth, I wanted dick again. Maybe you heard her and dug your heels in, decided to go against the grain because you didn't change your mind. Ten years on and you still lose your mind. For a butch hottie with BDE or a trans masc with swag, you've gone from boy obsessed to gay as shit. And the only boy you go crazy for is your husband. Make it make sense, Libido. Were you always queer or did that happen later? Did pregnancy make me gay? And if something like that can arrive overnight without warning, what other surprises lie in wait for me? Though maybe libido, the answer was right in front of me all along. In the Goblin King. I mean, come on, the first person you ever responded to was a man in makeup and the tightest pants you ever saw, played by a gender fluid bisexual icon wielding a magic crystal ball. And I thought I was straight. I'm sorry it took me so long, Libido. Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for the adventures. And thank you for Paddy, my very own Goblin King, who looks just as good as Bowie in tights. I don't know what you've got in store for me next, but I know that I can trust you. I'll continue to follow you wherever you lead me, be it train tracks, golf courses, or te Papa, long may you last. Yours always, Melody. Thank you so much Nadine, Emily, Sam and Joseph for being brave enough to write such personal letters and then read them out in a room full of strangers. And then again for us in the studio, thank you also again to Jesse Kassin for creating such an incredible project, one that is generous enough that other people can just pick it up and make it their own in the way that we just heard. If today's episode moved you at all, you can go and support Jessie's work@lettertomylabido.com and maybe even write your own letter. You don't have to show it to anyone. If you loved this, please tell a friend or leave us a review to help people find the show. And we'll be back next week with a regular episode of the Good Sex Project. Until then, take care of yourselves and I don't know, maybe write that letter. The Good Sex Project was made by PopSoc Media. It was written and developed by me, Melody Thomas. Our producer and audio editor is Kirsten Johnstone. Co producers are Kay Hecke and Alaina Bates. Phil Brownlee recorded me in the studio and our sound mix is by Mark Chesterman. Paddy Fred did the music and some of the sound design. Thank
- [39:54]
Aura Ad Voice
you.
- [39:54]
Stephen
Foreign.
- [40:03]
Aura Ad Voice
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- [41:18]
Melody
acast powers the world's best podcasts.
- [41:22]
Hayden
Here's a show that we recommend.
- [41:26]
Jessi Klein
Hi, I'm Jessi Klein.
- [41:27]
Melody
And I'm Liz Feldman.
- [41:28]
Jessi Klein
And we are back for another season of Here to Make Friends, which is
- [41:32]
Melody
our podcast that is really just a long con to invite amazing guests onto
- [41:36]
Brooke Devard
our show and trick them into being our friends.
- [41:38]
Jessi Klein
Great guests like Linda Cardellini, Jeff Hiller,
- [41:40]
Melody
Paulina Porizkova, other people. And we'll also give you a sneak peek into what our text thread looks like.
- [41:46]
Brooke Devard
The kind of stuff we write about
- [41:47]
Melody
like should I buy this? Am I a unicorn?
- [41:49]
Stephen
Do you think I'm a unicorn?
- [41:51]
Melody
Follow here to make friends wherever you get your podcast and watch us on YouTube.
- [41:56]
Hayden
Acast helps creators launch, grow and monetize their podcasts everywhere. Acast.com.